


Trying to Leave the Business Never Really Works

by AngelQueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorms, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her parents' murders, Sansa tries to distance herself from the family business. Robb has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying to Leave the Business Never Really Works

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [asoiaf kink meme](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com) prompt, 'Robb/Sansa, Modern crime family AU- Sansa has tried to get away from the dark business her family deals in (goes off to college, gets a humanitarian job or what have you) after her parents are killed but Robb can't quite let her go...'
> 
> This kind of turned out to be longer than I expected it would. *blush*

Sansa left a week after the funeral. 

Robb had come down the front staircase of the house, his head feeling as though it had been crushed by brass knuckles and his mouth tasting worse than the cake Arya and Bran had tried to make for his previous birthday. He supposed that was what he got for letting Theon get him drunk in the study the previous night. He stepped onto the first floor landing and nearly tripped over the three suitcases laying there.

“Fuck,” he growled irritably. He started to shout for one of the maids, wonder why the fuck there were _suitcases_ here. Robert and his bitch-wife, Cersei, had left the day after his parents’ funeral, as had the rest of their guests. However, before a sound could leave his mouth, Sansa appeared in the foyer. She was dressed warmly, ready to ward off the early morning chill. She froze briefly when their eyes met.

“Sansa,” he said, “what’s this?”

His sister’s face paled dramatically, but after a moment she lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m leaving, Robb,” she said.

Robb blinked. “What?” he asked blankly. 

“I’m leaving,” she repeated. She stared at him intently. “You know I was accepted at Princeton.”

He hadn’t, to be honest, but then, he and Sansa were hardly ones to _talk_ to each other. Still, he wasn’t about to admit that he didn’t know something so important. “So?”

She sighed as she reached for her purse, which had been sitting on a small end table. “I’m going to Princeton, Robb,” she told him. “I’m getting out of here before this place gets me killed like it did Mom and Dad.”

Robb couldn’t suppress a flinch. Ned and Cat Stark had been killed in an ambush not two weeks ago. They were well-known supporters of the Baratheon crime family, and presumably that was why they had been gunned down. All the signs pointed toward the Targaryens, the crime family that had been ousted by the Baratheons and their supporters, and the Targaryens had targeted the Starks before, when they had murdered Robb’s grandfather, uncle, and aunt. However, given that the only Targaryens actually _left_ were the fifteen-year-old shit, Viserys, and his twelve-year-old sister, Daenarys, Robb had his doubts. He was more inclined to think it was the Lannisters, the family of Robert Baratheon’s wife. Cersei Baratheon made no secret of her dislike for Ned and Cat, and had hardly contained her bitchier tendencies when she had been a guest during the funeral. The only problem was that there was no direct proof.

Still, Robb forced himself to focus on his sister. “But what about—”

“Old Nan will look after Arya, Bran, and Rickon,” she cut him off. “They’ll be all right in time. I have to go, Robb,” she said, glancing distractedly at her watch. “My flight leaves in three hours and I have a cab waiting.”

She started to grab her suitcases, but he reached out to grasp her wrists. As always, a jolt shot through his body when he touched her. It had always been like this for him with Sansa and if the way she stilled when they touched, she still felt the same. “What about me, Sansa?”

She stared up at him, her blue eyes, so like his own, dark and wary. “You made your choice, Robb,” she answered, her tone barely above a whisper. “You chose to take up Dad’s spot with the Baratheons. You had a chance to get out of this, but didn’t take it. Dad stayed because he and Robert were like brothers, but you owed him no such loyalty. The Starks have enough money to get out, but you chose to stay.” She shook her head, her loose auburn hair swaying with the movement. “I won’t be a part of it. Not anymore.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. What _could_ he say?

While he gaped at her in silence, Sansa slowly pried her arm loose from his grip. She somehow managed to pick up all three of her suitcases and walked out the door, leaving him there.

That had been six months ago, and Robb had barely been able to think of anything else in the weeks after. He’d been consumed by thoughts of Sansa, so much that Theon, Greatjon, and many of his other people had been handling the business. Thankfully, the Starks had employed people they could trust, and Robb was able to dwell on his sister in earnest.

It was only when his half-brother, Jon, came to visit him that he was broken out of his funk. Rather abruptly too. Jon, kind, good-natured Jon, had slugged him hard in the shoulder and shoved him into his chair. Leaning down in his face, he’d said, “Get over yourself, Robb. Figure out what the fuck is wrong with you and stop making the rest of us suffer. Sansa’s not the only sibling you have, you know. Bran and Rickon need you. Arya needs you. Decide what to do and fucking _do it_!”

So he had. He’d picked himself up and started looking beyond his study. Bran and Rickon had eyed him warily, expecting him to disappear again at a moment’s notice. Arya had just glared at him, as unforgiving of people’s faults as she always was. Robb had stayed with them, taking the well-aimed verbal blows that he knew he deserved from them. He stayed, and acted like their brother. 

Now, he stood in front of the dorm marked ‘Bethington Hall’, staring up at the building. Sansa had taken a room in this dorm, a room just for herself, she’d told him in her letters. She valued her privacy.

It was a Saturday, and Robb knew she’d be here. She usually spent Saturday mornings and afternoons working on her assignments and papers so that she would have Saturday night and Sunday to spend with friends. She was here, he knew. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Robb strode up the walk towards the door to the dorm.

* * *

Sansa looked up from her desk when there was a knock on her door. She’d been deep into working on a paper for her psychology class and wasn’t expecting any visitors this morning. Her friends certainly knew better than to bother her on Saturday mornings.

There was another knock, and Sansa stood up, leaving her laptop waiting for her to return to it. Stepping up to her door, she peeked through the eyehole to see who was knocking.

Robb stood just on the other side and Sansa could barely suppress a gasp. She hadn’t seen her brother in six months. She wrote to him and their siblings, but she hadn’t been home since she’d left. He was as beautiful as ever, with his red curls and blue eyes. Swallowing hard so as to calm her pounding heart, she stepped back and opened the door.

He was dressed casually and lightly in anticipation of the warm day that the weatherman had predicted, with a pair of tan trousers and light-colored shirt. He looked so handsome that Sansa felt like a bumpkin, dressed in the oversized shirt and shorts that she usually slept in.

“Sansa.”

God, but he could _still_ make it sound like her name was melting in his mouth. How was it that he was able to do that? She had asked herself that so many times over the years, wanting to know why her _brother_ could make her feel this way when every social rule and more in modern society reviled such feelings between siblings. She had never found a satisfactory answer.

“Robb,” she replied quietly, stepping back. She gestured for him to enter the room. “Please, come in.”

He walked past her, letting her close the door behind him. As the door clicked shut, Sansa turned to face him. “What…” she started, paused, then started again. “What are you doing here?”

Robb was glancing around, taking her little room in. Sansa was suddenly absurdly grateful that while she herself was a mess, her room wasn’t. She had done her laundry yesterday and was all hung up or folded away in her chest of drawers. She had made her bed when she’d woken up. There was no clutter save for the pile of library books and textbooks sitting next to her desk in the corner, and even those were stacked neatly. 

“I missed you,” he answered her. A simple answer, and yet when he stopped looking at her room and started looking at her, her heart started to thud even harder in her chest. It was strange. When she had confined herself to memories and writing letters, it had been relatively easy to control what she felt for him, easy to confine it to small, distant corner of her mind. Of course, it hadn’t been enough for her to try and move on, to have a normal, healthy relationship with someone. Young men like Willas Tyrell and Quentyn Martell had all expressed an interest in dating her, but Sansa couldn’t bring herself to agree to it. Every time she tried, Robb’s face would appear in her mind’s eye, and she would suddenly feel revolted at the very idea of another man touching her. 

“I see,” was all she said. What else _could_ she say? 

The silence seemed to be loud in her ears as they kept staring at each other. Before she could think of something else to say, Robb stepped closer. His fingers came up to brush away a loose strand of her long, red hair from her face, grazing the skin of her cheek in the process. Sansa shuddered at the contact, feeling as though a jolt of electricity had shot down her spine.

“I still can’t get used to you not being in the house,” he whispered. “Arya, Bran, and Rickon make enough noise to wake the dead when they want to, but it’s not the same. You’re not there telling Arya to stop looking for new possible ways to kill Joffrey Baratheon. You’re not there when Bran or Rickon come home with good marks on their homework.” He stopped, licking his lips before continuing, “You’re not in your room after everyone else has gone to bed and we’re the only ones still awake.”

Sansa forced herself not to look away from his blue-eyed gaze. “I had to get out of here, Robb,” she whispered back. “Mom let herself be sucked into the life because she loved Dad. I couldn’t let myself be sucked in because I loved you. I just couldn’t.”

She believed that then, in the awful aftermath of the funeral, and she still believed it now. Their father had had the chance to leave the life after the Targaryens had killed Grandfather Rickard, Uncle Brandon, and Aunt Lyanna, but had stayed out of loyalty to Robert Baratheon who, in Sansa’s opinion, had done little enough to deserve it. Mom had stayed out of love for Dad and, in the end, both had ended up soaking the pavement with their blood. Robb had stayed… well, she didn’t know _why_ he’d stayed.

Sansa couldn’t end up like that. She _refused_ to. If that meant giving up everything that she loved, everything that made her whole, then so be it.

It was hard, though, to make such promises when the one she loved most, loved more than she should, was standing right in front of her.

He didn’t seem upset by her declaration, though. Instead, he nodded. “I understand.” He caressed her cheek again, adding, “I still miss you, though.”

Sansa closed her eyes, struggling to control herself. Robb had even less control than she did, though, because the next thing she knew, he had gripped her shoulders and pulled her against him. Before she could say a word, their lips met. 

She moaned against the contact, and her arms came up to wrap around his neck, keeping him close. Their lips clashed together and Sansa shivered when Robb’s hands began pulling her shirt high enough for him to slip under it. God, how could she have given up having his hands on her skin? It was better than feeling silk against her body.

It wasn’t long before Robb found better things to do with his hands. He backed her up against the wall of her closet and broke their kiss. As Sansa struggled to catch her breath, he reached down and tugged at the back of her right knee. She needed no further encouragement and she hiked herself up with his help, pressing back against the wall and wrapping her legs around his waist.

Their lips came together again, this time even more sloppily. Their tongues met in an old, familiar dance, one that neither of them had participated in in quite a long while, and Sansa didn’t even try to restrain herself. Of course, Robb wasn’t restraining himself either. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing when he started to fumble between them, but then she felt his fingers slip past the elastic band of her shorts and onto the skin beneath her underwear.

When those fingers slipped over her shaved mound and to her slit, Sansa squirmed when she felt the moisture that had already gathered there. Robb groaned, “God, Sansa…”

The pad of his finger brushed over her clit and she could barely contain a shriek as a wave of pleasure washed over her, causing her to bang her head against the wall behind her.

Robb laughed. He _laughed_ , the bastard. She glared at him, ready to say something scathing, but didn’t get a chance when he rubbed her clit again. Then all she cared about was what he was doing to her. 

It didn’t take long for her to peak. Her orgasm washed over her, more intense than she had been able to simulate with her own fingers in the past several months. Sansa bit her lip against a loud cry, and instead forced herself to focus on Robb as her senses began to clear.

His blue eyes were bright with lust as he watched her. He had done that often, watched her as she enjoyed her pleasure, and on many occasions had driven her mad just so he could watch her. Not today, though. Sansa didn’t know how long he would be able to stay with her, but she intended to make the most of what time they had together. She shifted a little, and he obligingly set her down on her feet. 

She took her hand in hers and led him over to her bed. As they sat down, Sansa kissed him again, her hands coming up to the buttons of his shirt even as Robb began to pull on her shirt again. He tugged it up over her head, leaving her torso bared to his gaze. Once, she had been rather self-conscious when he had stared at her breasts and had often raised her arms to cover them, but she was no bashful girl anymore. Once she had all of the buttons of his shirt undone, she let go of him and leaned back, beckoning to him. 

Robb didn’t need any more invitation. He shrugged his loose shirt off of his shoulders, tossing it onto the floor. While he was fumbling with his belt and trousers, Sansa quickly gripped her shorts and underwear, sliding them down and off her legs. When she looked up again, Robb was as naked as she was. He climbed onto the small, single bed, into the space she had made for him by spreading her legs.

As he settled, Sansa swept her gaze down his torso, following the smattering of red hair to his swollen member, which had a small bead of moisture on the tip. Smiling faintly, she reached out and swiped it away with a single finger. Robb jerked at her brief touch, and then clenched his jaw when she continued to smile while bringing that same finger up to her lips. She licked the thin little pearl of moisture with all the care of a cat licking at a bowl of cream, savoring the bitter, salty taste.

Robb growled, “Not in the mood to play games with you, little sister.” He leaned forward, pressing her down on the bed and it was then that she noticed the condom wrapper in his hand. He ripped it open with his teeth, tossed the wrapper away, and then reached down, coaxing the thin covering over his cock. While he did so, Sansa made sure he saw her smirk at him as she reached down with the same finger she had touched him with and began touching herself. Much of the tenderness of her earlier orgasm had faded, though much of the moisture had remained. It only took a few swipes to collect that moisture around her clit, coaxing the nub back to arousal.

Robb made his presence known when he leaned forward again, guiding his cock toward her entrance. He slid into her slowly, torturously, and she moaned at the feeling of being filled. She hadn’t felt the sensation in so long, and Robb always fit her so well, like he was meant to. He pressed close, his lips closing over one of her pebbled nipples and beginning to suckle. 

“Oh, _God_ ,” Sansa choked, her fingers coming up to brush through his curls. The combined sensations of his lips on her breast and his prick inside her were overwhelming and she couldn’t restrain the urge to _move_. She jerked her hips against him, trying to get him to do the same.

His resulting chuckle reverberated through her breast until he released her. “Like that, don’t you?” He then gave her a small, shallow thrust, sending him deeper inside of her.

“Just… as much… as you,” she panted, reaching blindly for his ass, hoping to press him closer, deeper. Robb caught her, though, gripping her wrists and pressing them back up on either side of her head, holding them there. Sansa resisted for a moment, but his grip was firm and his weight solid. She started to glare up at him, but then he thrust into her again, much harder than the first one, and she found she preferred to focus on that instead.

She met his succeeding thrusts by rolling her hips, pressing her feet on the mattress so as to gain better leverage. They continued their movements, punctuated by Robb leaning down to take her other nipple into his mouth, their pace increasing as their need spiked.

Sansa tugged fiercely at her captive wrists. Gods she wanted to _touch_ him, wanted to feel his skin under her fingers! She wanted to touch where his cock was thrusting into her, to feel the push and pull of skin and sinew under her fingers. “Let _go_ ,” she hissed at him. 

Either he did as she asked, or he was just too focused on his tasks to argue with her, because when she jerked her hands again, they came away easily. Instantly, she dropped one of her hands onto the back of Robb’s head, gripping his red curls and pulling him up to kiss her. The other, however, went lower, between their thrusting bodies. Sansa cried out against Robb’s mouth when her fingers skimmed over her sensitized clit and inner folds, and he too grunted when her fingers finally reached his thrusting cock. 

A moment passed, and then Robb’s larger, more calloused fingers joined her own, only they instead focused on her clit. As he swiped it, he hissed in her ear, “Come for me, Sansa. Come for your big brother.”

The words were the straw that broke the camel’s back. His mouth covered hers again just as she screamed her release, her inner walls tightening around his cock in a vice-like grip. Even as the chaos of her pleasure swept over her, Sansa could still feel Robb thrusting into her body until finally he too came. There was no seed to flood her body, the condom saw to that, thus eliminating the chance that he would get her pregnant. It was smart, yes, but there was some, small, primal part of her that cried out against this, demanding that he give her body a child, a child of their own, no matter what society said against such an idea.

When she was finally coherent again, she found Robb still on top of her, his face buried against her neck as she absently ran her fingers through his hair. As his breathing slowed, he pushed himself up off of her, enough that there was no danger of him crushing her.

His fingers brushed over her cheek as he stared down at her, a tender expression on his face. Sansa smiled at him in return, but then she glanced over at her small bedside table. Her cell was there, and she reached for it. 

“What are you doing?” he protested as she gripped her phone in her hand.

She gave him a wicked smirk. “Letting everyone know that I’m going to be busy the whole weekend and won’t be leaving my room. They know me well enough not to disturb me when I send such messages.”

Robb blinked, but then slowly met her smirk with one of his own.


End file.
